Shaking the Mist

I stepped out from beneath the low eaves of the timber shelter, feeling cool morning mist clinging to the outer tips of my shaggy coat. Planting all four broad paws firmly into the packed earth, I braced myself and gave my bulky shoulders a great, rolling shake. The motion rippled all the way through my thick fur, sending an arching spray of hundreds of tiny glistening water drops flying across the ferns. By the time I stopped, my heavy coat had puffed out twice as wide, feeling pleasantly warm and light against the morning chill.